


Something Wicked This Way Weeds

by misha_collins_butt



Series: Wincest/Weecest [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother/Brother, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Frottage, High School, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shotgunning, Sibling Incest, Snogging, Voyeurism, Weed, dark!Sam, high school party, inebriation, these boys are dangerous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: I literally don't know, I just got the idea for this at like 3 in the morning so here's a bunch of nonsense about shotgunning and making out. Sam 14, Dean 18.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, Weecest - Relationship
Series: Wincest/Weecest [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597030
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98





	Something Wicked This Way Weeds

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do NOT condone this dynamic in real life.
> 
> I don't own the characters but this is unbeta'd, so I do own the mistakes.

It's late into the night at Dean's friend's house party when they're sitting around the basement living room, about twenty or so high school kids stuffed into three couches, two recliners, and a stray beanbag chair, and someone breaks out the pot.

The joint has only made it around the room once when Sam hears someone mention shotgunning, and immediately perks up.

"Shotgunning is my favourite way to get stoned," he mentions casually, already loosened up on a few Jell-O shots that some older kids told him to try. He's the only one his age now that the bulk of the earlier party has left and the numbers have dwindled, but he's got about four years of education on these chumps and functions at the same emotional level as them, or at the very most, a year younger. Needless to say, he's not very shy of talking openly with them, which, so far, has worked fine. Until now.

The greasy, jock-wannabe lookin' punk sitting across the room in the beanbag scoffs and sneers, "Yeah, right, kid. Do you even know what shotgunning is?"

All eyes turn on Sam with innocent curiosity as he narrows his own at the douchebag who decided to make commentary. Wrong move, bucko.

In the corner of his vision, Sam sees the joint get handed to him by the nice blonde girl sitting beside him, and he takes it without looking away from Greasy Douche Punk. He skips his own turn to keep it fair and gives the weed to Dean, finally turning away to have a silent conversation with his brother, who instantly knows what's up.

Dean chuckles lightly, flames the blackened end of the blunt, and inhales an impressive amount for someone whose father has no idea he does drugs. He then turns back to Sam, hooks his fingers behind Sam's ear, and cranes his neck as he leans down and stops his open mouth just millimeters from Sam's.

A small cloud escapes between them as Dean breathes out and Sam sucks as much in as he can, which is not nearly the same billowing fog that Dean took in. Smugly, he retrains his gaze on Greasy Douche Punk and blows the haze out, aiming down so he can examine the guy's reaction. Which is...just fuckin' perfect.

Seriously, the kid's face goes from shocked gaping, to lopsided fascination, to squinting suspicion, to dawning realisation, and the quick-shift of those gears is genuinely just incredible to Sam. Although, he only has a second to enjoy it when he recognises what the last one and the mildly horrified panic swimming in the kid's eyes means.

Seeing that Mr. Greasy has obviously figured out Sam and Dean's little (not-so-secret) secret, Sam returns his eyes to Dean just as his older brother does the same, as though they are telepathically connected (and, honestly, that would be the least fucked up thing about them).

This time, when Dean exhales into Sam's lungs, they don't pull back. In fact, they close the tiny gap between them and Sam breathes out his transferred hit through his nose as he openly laps at his brother's mouth.

As expected, beanbag guy splutters when the veil dissipates enough for him to clearly identify that, yes, the two guys who everyone knows are full-blooded brothers, are frenching on the couch at Lindsay Vegol's house party. But while Sir Punks-a-lot sits in stunned silence, the rest of the group begin to whistle and cheer the boys on, either seemingly unbothered by the fact that they're siblings, or possibly, simply forgetting.

Either way, encouragement is encouragement, and neither of them will turn down a little public frottage wherever they can get away with it.

Sam swings his leg up and over Dean's hips, and settles himself down in Dean's lap, hanging his arms over the older boy's shoulders as they languidly fuck each other's mouths with their tongues. Dean's hands automatically come up to Sam's waist, holding him there so Dean can rut up into him.

While they're definitely not about to whip their cocks out for free, Sam wouldn't mind getting off to being watched, albeit mostly by people who inarguably want the boys to give them a show, but one of them is a captive audience member, and that turns Sam on so much more than the willing participants.

They make it undeniably obvious that they're rolling their hips together and they don't restrain the salacious noises that escape their throats. The whoops and hollers somehow haven't died down, and when Sam peeks at the girl he was sitting next to, she seems completely enchanted by the way they're moving together. He also notes how she's squirming in her seat, and he knows she's wet. 

He closes his eyes again and chuckles. It's really too bad. She's pretty. But Dean almost never lets a third party into their sexual exploits, for a number of reasons, really. Namely, because he's candidly selfish and wants Sam all to himself. No way would Dean ever share with someone so pretty.

They come at almost the same exact time, a practised talent that's taken them nearly a year to master, almost since they first started their relationship. When they pull off of each other's swollen lips, the small crowd goes wild, whistles and laughter and delighted shouts flying at the two of them. Sam smirks again, this time at his brother, and leans in for one more peck before slumping back into his previous spot on the sofa.

He's jubilant to see that, the next time the joint comes around to Greasy Douche Punk, the kid bodily twitches away from it and vehemently shakes his head, motioning to pass it to the next person.

The guy doesn't take his eyes off Sam the rest of the night.

\----

As they're leaving finally at around four in the morning, planning to sleep until seven in the Impala which Dean parked a block away in a tenant parking lot, the greasy guy - Logan, Sam heard someone call him - catches up to them and cautiously taps Sam's shoulder.

When Sam spins around to see what he wants, Logan looks wary of Dean and unwilling to talk with him leaning heavily against the younger boy, so Sam tells Dean to go wait for him by the gate and that he'll be along in a minute. Dean stumbles away, much more intoxicated than Sam.

The older Winchester reaches the gate and props himself up against it with a tranquil smile tugging at his full lips, and Sam shakes his head at the dork, then meets Logan's beady little eyes and raises an expectant brow.

"Listen, man, I'm sorry I made fun of you," he starts in a low voice, positively sober even compared to the least crossfaded student currently making her way to a taxi idling at the end of the walkway. "But you didn't have to...go and do..." he tosses a withering glance at Dean and then back to Sam. "I mean, isn't he your brother?"

Sam is outright beaming when he looks Logan dead in the eye and replies, "Yup."

Logan's expression crumples with emphatic disgust and he nervously interrogates, "But like...just step-brothers, right?"

Giggling like a little girl, Sam rests a hand on Logan's shoulder and drawls sweet as can be, "No, honey."

"H-half brothers?" Logan tries again, visibly desperate for Sam to comfort his fears, but Sam's a sadist on the streets and poor old Logan isn't about to get the satisfaction.

Wordlessly, he shakes his head, still grinning. Probably looks straight up maniacal. When Logan doesn't say it out loud because he's too busy quaking like a trailer house on a dirt road, Sam's smile grows to its limit.

He lists forward and, taking advantage of Logan's statue-still shock, husks into his ear, "All of your worst suspicions are true. We're full brothers, same two parents and everything. Whatever shit you're wondering whether we've done, I can guarantee we've done it and more. You have no idea who we are and what we can do, Logan. You bullied the wrong kid."

The implied threat seems to fling Logan out of his trance and as Sam tips back onto his flat feet, Logan gives him one last scandalised look before taking off toward the sidewalk, not daring to so much as peer at Dean from behind his bangs as he passes. Dean doesn't even notice him, too lost atop cloud nine to care much. 

Armed with the know-how to make Logan disappear without a trace, Sam and Dean Winchester float like ghosts back to the only real home they've ever known, and if the moon sparkles down at them just a little brighter than the rest...well, that's nothing new.

The universe has always loved them just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my life support, pls don't let me die.


End file.
